Latest News 3-9-2013

I haven't felt much like writing.  I'm still somewhat depressed and I think I may be coming down with a cold, which I really do not need just now.



There's a gun show this weekend, but after I faced the crowd at a local gun show a few weeks back I'm not up for another one.  There were more people attending the gun show than I'd ever seen before, and the friends I have in the gun business tell me that they can't keep inventory on the shelf.  Everything just vanishes.  If I were smart, I'd have opened a munitions factory about four years prior to the Ayatollah Obama ascending the throne.  But I'm not, and I didn't, so I'm still poor and likely to remain so the rest of my life.  I suppose there are worse things than being poor in the land of the free lunch.  For instance, coming down with a toothache at 11:00 PM Friday night and not having any painkillers or any way to get some.

Opportunity keeps passing me by.  Like, for instance, Ding Bat called Main Lady the other day to say that she'd been exercising and her heart rate went up to 120, and she became frightened so she stopped.  Ding Bat's belief, you see, is that when a person's heart rate exceeds a certain number the heart goes into some type of runaway heart beat mode and the owner of said heart falls over dead in very short order.  That's how DC Law bought it, by the way, but his condition was brought on by mitigating factors to include a fifth of gin every week.  I could have milked that situation for a long time.

"Oh, it's a good thing you stopped.  I think the yellow line for a person like you is 123, if memory serves me correctly.  At 125 you go into runaway heart mode, but there is a cure for that.  If you act quickly, that is.  You have to stop exercising, spin around three times counter clockwise then lay flat on your back for five minutes and don't think about an elephant."

I mean, other things suggest themselves, and I know that I wouldn't have any trouble at all convincing Ding Bat to run around in the back yard buck naked while singing "When the Saints Go Marching In", word would eventually get back to Main Lady.  Main Lady doesn't always subscribe to my unusual sense of humor.

I read about the brand new gun laws that the Moonbats want to subject the rest of the world to, and I don't really know which is more frightening; the fact that any member of the government would actually write and enact law like this, or the fact that the Moonbats really believe more Draconian gun laws will solve the problem.

I enjoy reading Charleston Thug Life, who features both free and incarcerated people who blatantly break the law and brag about it on facebook.  A short while ago he posted A Question For Our President, which of course has never been answered.  Chas referenced another blogger that posted along the same meme and is worth reading: Charleston Thug Life: The Liberty Zone. Here's a direct link to The Liberty Zone: Think These Guys Will Give Up Their Guns?.  It's kind of a rhetorical question, unless you're a freedom hating Moonbat.

I see that the police have come under a lot of criticism lately.  Some of the critical news articles, blog posts and comments are richly deserved, others are not.  One thing that mitigates any police action I read about is this.  Suppose you live in a diverse neighborhood where roughly half the local populace is out of work with no plans to even try and enter the work force in the future.  These otherwise fine, upstanding citizens have their days and nights mixed up, and so, you see, while you're trying to get a good night's sleep so you can get up at 6:00 AM and go to work in the morning your neighbors decide to stage an impromptu rap concert at the usual time for such events - 2:30 AM.  Here are your neighbors.

LilBoo TrapOut

Meet Lil' Boo Trap Out, who says (on facebook) that he has his bitch in his hand.  Charming little fellow, isn't he?  You'll probably run into him Sunday morning on your way to Church.  Then we have his friends, who identify themselves as real 'niggas' making a way.  I think that's local slang for earning a living.  Note that two out of these three misguided youths are armed.

Real Niggas Makin A Way

Go knock on the door and politely ask this group to turn their music down.  That's what the police do when you call them, and even if the police are armed I'm very certain that the police aren't going to enjoy knocking on that door any more than the average working man does.

Photos are courtesy of Charleston Thug Life and used without permission.

Message to any and all police reading this: Thanks for showing up at 3:00 AM and telling Lil' Boo to turn that shit off.

I think I'll have some lunch and go visit a few friends, maybe take a short road trip with my camera.